


Missing Pieces

by In_love_with_writing002



Series: When Buttercups Wither Verse [8]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Death, God!Jaskier, Grieving Lambert, M/M, Revenge killing, Unintentional love confession, Witchers don’t get happy endings, god powers, painful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:09:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29560299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_love_with_writing002/pseuds/In_love_with_writing002
Summary: Jaskier is content with his place in the universe. Everything around him has settled comfortably...And then something goes wrong.
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion & Witchers
Series: When Buttercups Wither Verse [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787980
Comments: 44
Kudos: 119





	Missing Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> I am so, so sorry.

It happens in the middle of autumn, years after Jaskier gets a physical form. Jaskier is walking leisurely down a path in Novigrad, tossing and catching a coin pouch casually. He probably shouldn’t be here, he’s started to gain more fame and followers and there’s a chance he might run into trouble with the Eternal Fire if he lingers. But he loves Novigrad, the place he really got his start after studying in Oxenfurt. Being so close to home makes him feel reminiscent of his lifetime, and he thinks about checking in on his old friends—

And then he feels it.

It’s like a gouging in his core, like someone has reached inside of him and carved out the center of him. **_Aiden—_ ** his very being screams, and Jaskier is off in an instant, coin pouch abandoned on the back road.

Jaskier doesn’t see who killed him. He thinks bandits are responsible, as he’s left with nothing but his medallion and clothes, pockets empty and picked clean. He cries over his loss, the pain in his core, he puts his head on Aiden’s chest and sobs helplessly, searching for _something_ to grab onto, a spirit, a call, a-

“Okay, let’s get back on the… Aiden?”

Jaskier recognizes the voice right away, and his heart breaks at the pain evident in it.

“No, _no_ , _no-_ “

“Lambert, he-“ Jaskier feels fresh tears forming as he looks over his shoulder, seeing the Witcher rush past him, practically _through_ him, pushing his hands into Aiden’s hair, grabbing at his body, despite the wound in his chest.

“Aiden,” Lambert says, his voice breaking into a sob. “ _Aiden,”_ he cries again, and Jaskier can feel as much as he sees Lambert’s agony, see the way he bends down and presses their foreheads together, cupping the sides of his head and bringing it to his chest. Lambert’s tears fall unbidden, sniffling and sobbing as he holds him close. “You can’t be,” he whines. “They never even got to meet you.”

Jaskier can feel himself tearing up again, heartbroken for Lambert, physically weary with Aiden’s death, and hatred pouring towards himself for not knowing what caused it, why he wasn’t _there,_ why he didn’t sense any danger until after it had been done.

“Aiden,” Lambert sobs into his hair, presses a kiss into it, runs his fingers over his face. He’s rocking back and forth on the ground, and the sight only serves to break Jaskier’s heart more.

“Lambert,” Jaskier says, reaching for him. Lambert startles slightly, as if he didn’t know Jaskier was there before.

“Jaskier,” Lambert croaks, and looks down at the body in his arms. “He’s-“

“I know,” Jaskier says, sliding closer and wrapping Lambert in his arms. He doesn’t try to make Lambert let him go, knowing he needs to hold him or else Aiden might fade away forever. Lambert cries openly, his face pushed into Jaskier’s dark blue doublet, clutching Aiden tightly while his blood soaks the ground around them.

—

Lambert sheds more tears while he builds a makeshift funeral pyre for Aiden, Jaskier encouraging his every step while Lambert fights a losing battle of giving up all hope in his life. He can hear the dark tones echoing in Lambert’s head:

_“What’s the point?”_

_“It should have been me.”_

_—_

Come on now, Lambert,” Jaskier says. “Just a couple more sticks, isn’t it a nice base? The wood in this area is beautiful.” It doesn’t do anything to distract Lambert from his thoughts, but it keeps him moving at least, and even though Lambert has to take a couple of breaks so he can sit and cry, Jaskier continues to encourage him. Before Lambert lights the pyre Jaskier gives Aiden’s body a blessing, taking his medallion off and returning to Lambert’s side.

It’s the saddest _Igni_ he’s ever seen Lambert make, but it’s enough to spark a flame.

Lambert moves like a machine then, as if the act of putting on Aiden’s medallion has stripped him to his base functions. He packs up his things again, puts what he needs on his horse off the road, and leads his horse— and presumably Aiden’s— up the path. Misery rolls off of him in waves and Jaskier follows him; nobody else needs him right now.

—

It’s maybe two miles down the road that Lambert addresses him again.

“Why are you still here?”

Jaskier is taken aback.

“Wh-What?” He asks.

“I don’t need anything. Go.” It hurts his feelings, to be dismissed so blatantly. It takes him back to Geralt before Ciri, a Geralt with no regard for how others feel. Lambert has _never_ been like Geralt. 

“That was a bit harsh,” Jaskier says, making sure his displeasure is clear.

“Then don’t make me say it again!” Lambert barks. He stops in the middle of the path, avoiding looking back. Jaskier feels out Lambert’s emotions and bristles at how much hurt and shame there is. And, under it, there is the yearning, for what, he doesn’t know. Probably for Aiden to come back, just as Jaskier feels.

“You’re being ridiculous Lambert, just calm-“

“ _Where_ _were you,_ ” Lambert spins over his shoulder, eyes full of unshed tears. “When Aiden needed you?”

Jaskier doesn’t know how to answer him. There had been no danger he could sense, nothing that gave him warning with Aiden’s abrupt death. “I-“

Lambert waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t bother explaining yourself,” he says, turning around and rubbing at his face. “I want some space.”

Jaskier swallows thickly. “Okay,” he says. “I…” 

_Why is it that whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, It’s you, shoveling it?_

He’s _not_ making comparisons. 

“I’ll see you around, Lambert.” His response feels as acrid on his tongue now as it did with Geralt.

—

A week later, Jaskier is recovering from the loss of Aiden well. He no longer feels the ache in his gut when he thinks about it, as if a weight has been removed. He’s in Skellige with Coen, on a nightwraith contract that’s going pretty well, when again—

Pain lances through his gut, overwhelming, all consuming when he collapses and curls around himself. **Jad Karadin** , echoes his being, and Jaskier wants to slam his fist down in anger, _two_ Witchers a week apart, both from Cat school, and Jad Karadin— he’d helped him _retire_ with a family recently, had given them a blessing, but like with Aiden, he feels no warning, only the agony before he materializes himself where he felt the combined yank and stab.

“Not again,” Jaskier sobs, seeing his body stabbed gruesomely through the chest. He kneels by his side and cries, wondering what the fuck was killing all his charges. Jad Karadin’s medallion was gone, too, and it made angry tears spill from his eyes, even through the pain.

“Jaskier?”

He recognizes that voice. “Geralt,” he says desperately, spinning around, clutching at his stomach. “It _hurts,”_ he gasps, legs weak under him. Geralt embraces him, pressing on the back of his head gently.

“What hurts?” Geralt asks softly.

“Fist Aiden, now this, it _hurts…”_

Geralt squeezes him a little tighter.

“I can feel it, when they die, but nothing is-“ Jaskier hiccups on a sob. “I don’t know who killed them, _what_ killed them.”

Geralt shifts, and Jaskier looks up to blearily ask him what’s wrong—

And he sees Lambert.

Lambert, with his sword in his hand, the blade covered in blood, and a cat medallion clutched in his other hand. The dots connect in seconds. The knowledge doesn’t make the pain go away, it just makes more questions rise. Lambert’s eyes widen, and he looks at Jad Karadin’s body, and his own sword, then drops it like its burned him. Lambert runs.

“Geralt, What is-“ Jaskier gasps for air, still trying to get past the pain in his chest. “Lambert don’t-“

“Let him go, Jaskier,” Geralt mumbles in his ear, holding him in place.

“But Geralt-“

“Don’t.”

Jaskier shudders as a new wave of pain washes over him, grief still choking him. “He killed him,” Jaskier starts, “didn’t he?”

Geralt nods. “Because he was involved in the death of one of Lambert’s friends. Aiden?”

It makes sense, then. Jaskier’s heart breaks a little more. Witchers killing each other, it’s why no distress reached him. He was always alerted when someone was in trouble, but with these two… “oh, Lambert,” Jaskier mutters to himself. To think of the pain he was in, it must be unimaginable. And here Jaksier was, turning up in pain himself. “I have to go to him,” he says.

“I know,” Geralt says. “But don’t…” Geralt looks like he’s going to continue, then hums and shakes his head. “Be gentle with him,” he warns, and releases Jaskier from the circle of his arms.

And Jaskier moves.

—

“ _Stupid, selfish, idiot!”_

The words reach his ears before Jaskier Can process where they’re coming from.

“He protects Witchers! What the fuck did you expect?” It’s the same voice speaking. Talking to himself. “I never wanted to-“ the sounds of footsteps stop and Jaskier finally spots him, Lambert standing in the alley between two buildings, staring back at him, his fists clenching and unclenching on nothing.

“Don’t run from me,” Jaskier says. His chest still hurts. “Please.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Lambert says quickly, shaking his head. “I hurt you, I-“ he takes two steps closer and stops, his hands continuing to work anxiously. “But he-“ Lambert’s voice breaks.

Jaskier Triss to compose himself a little more, but his voice still comes out shaky when he speaks. “Lambert, it’s alright.”

“It’s _not.”_ Lambert sounds moments away from stomping his foot angrily. “Jaskier, I _hurt_ you.”

“I’ve been hurt worse,” he assures. “Let’s go somewhere and talk,” Jaskier says. “Tell me what happened, from beginning to end.” He hesitates slightly on the next part. “Tell me about Aiden, too.”

Lambert’s eyes fill with tears, and he feels the carefully restrained hurt and sadness, buried under anger, then self-hatred and fear, burst forward, and Lambert lurches into Jaskier’s arms. “I miss him so much,” he cries. “I don’t know-“ he pauses to hiccup before whining, “I want him _back.”_

Jaskier feels the pain in his chest tighten, and he grips Lambert in an embrace. “I know,” Jaskier mumbles.

“He was my happy ending.” How could he not have seen it before?

Warmth. Happiness. _Love_.

Lambert was _in_ _love_ with Aiden.

Suddenly acknowledging it, Jaskier feels it so strongly he chokes on it. It bleeds out of Lambert, his heart positively _bursting_ with it. _So much love,_ in such a small space. It mixes perfectly with his hurt, ties directly to his hatred, such a thin parallel it is nearly invisible. But _oh_ it is _there._ The depth of it is so ínstense it leaves Jaskier gasping.

“And now he’s _gone.”_

The missing piece slides into place, and Jaskier mourns over his lost future.

**Author's Note:**

> Haha... hopefully I’ll finish the next part soon so you don’t go on a head hunt for me


End file.
